Seeing like a Canberran
January 11, 2008
It is possible, of course, to build a new city or a new village, but it will be a “thin” or “shallow” city, and its residents will have to begin (perhaps from known repertoires) to make it work in spite of the rules. (James C Scott, p256 of Seeing Like a State)
Scott has little to say about Canberra in his book about the failures of planned cities, though having lived in Canberra, Australias most planned city, much of what he says applies.
Like all planned cities, the main part of Canberra is intended to be hugely impressive. Grand avenues sweep past enormous expanses of lawn which surround the ceremonial buildings of the State: Parliament House, the High Court, the National Gallery and the National Library. Of course, people can’t live in ceremonial buildings and the original suburbs are pretty in their way, though sharply divided in their tone.
Here is an affluent suburb with rolling lawns, hedge fences and curving streets. Here is a working class suburb, flat with cookie-cutter cottages and long straight streets.
The suburbs that have sprung up after the abandonment of the original plan are placed away from the ceremonial core and can only be reached by wide highways connecting the satellite cities. The satellites (from North to South: Gungalin, Belconnen, Woden and Tugerranong) are mostly dormitory suburbs, enlivened by a central shopping mall and a few streets of commercial and (very) light industrial buildings. Some of the larger federal departments have their offices in the satellites, perhaps as a way to alleviate the meagre traffic problems in Canberra, or perhaps as a way to increase the appeal of living in a satellite suburb.
Each suburb, new or old, is allocated one or perhaps two “corner shops” to complement the nearest large mall. Some corner shops are mini high-streets with a small second tier supermarket and the associated businesses that spring up around them. Others are oddly neglected and often have extremely unexpected collections of businesses. The closest shops to where I lived in Canberra featured a dingy bar, a Vietnamese restaurant that was not very well attended, a photocopier repair shop and a commercial plumbing supplier. Needless to say, the car park at my local shops was never very full.
And, carparks are important because Canberra must be encountered by car, unless you are willing to confine yourself to one satellite or the centre of Canberra, in which case a bike is advised. Canberra is not a walking city.
Coming into Canberra by car, the roads are all wide and cut through what is variously lush countryside or, increasingly, very dry countryside. For the most part, evidence of habitation is not apparent as the roads travel along valleys between the suburbs. Unlike cities that have grown more organically, businesses that would otherwise try to be cited by main roads are hidden within suburbs, even petrol stations and malls are hidden in the satellites and are not even visible, for the most part, from the main highways.
Compounding the difficulties in getting around Canberra is the fact that most of the road signage assumes some familiarity with the layout of the city in general. Heading from Belconnen to Woden down the main connecting highway, the signage closest to Belconnen typically indicates only Tuggeranong and not the intermediate southern satellite.
Visitors to Canberra complain about being unable to find anything. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, this is part of the design. Even more surprisingly, the idea that a designed city is less intuitive than one that has grown organically is sort of strange. You could make the argument that as most people’s experiences of cities are of undesigned ones, their intuition is “tuned” by a particular sort of city. Though, perhaps that is only part of the story. Perhaps the rules that go into designed city are not nuanced enough for people to live in. As Scott points out, the residents of a designed city have to make it work “in spite of the rules”.
Having lived in Canberra, I think that the “rules” that are needed to live there are different to other cities, designed or otherwise. The rules are different because normal city rules don’t work and the rules built into Canberra don’t completely work. They’re a third type of rule. A rule that comes about to get around the rules that don’t work. To live in Canberra, you need to see it, not through the eyes of someone used to a “natural” city; you need to see it like a Canberran.
January 13, 2008 at 11:27 am
Canberra reminds me of Brasilia, which is a planned city built in only a couple of years at the beginning of the automobile boom. Everything has its district (hotel district, shopping mall district, hospital district, etc.) and each community is self-contained, with school, cornershop and such. Walking around doesn’t get you very far, as there are very few sidewalks and impossible terrain to traverse. It’s as if some hyper-organized person played Sim City and actually built the result. Some of the rules there are bizarre too. Brazilians like the outdoors, but virtually all of the outdoor restaurant patios are illegal (thankfully, that rule isn’t enforced).
January 18, 2008 at 9:50 am
Ben’s comments ring true, but only through soemone else’s experience. Being a semi-native Canberran (I’ve been here 17 years now!), getting around my home town is second nature.
But friends would visit from Sydney, and tell tales of getting lost, or tell me how every time we went somewhere, I would take them a different way.
I enjoy Canberra, althought I hate it’s ever-increasing urban sprawl, and it’s total lack of useful public transport. You’d think a planned city (even in the days of Burley-Griffin) would have catered for mass-transport systems to get people from the satellite cities into their typical places of work and the city’s central hub. Probably somethign that was included, and skipped due to budget constraints when the town was started.
I might have to visit the library and read this book. Sounds interesting.
January 23, 2008 at 10:53 pm
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